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robo-cryptid · 1 year

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Do you consider yourself a Yeehan shipper? And if so, why? I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I’m a relatively new shipper (started playing this year, and other Yeehan shippers directed me to your work), but I’ve seen some of your tweets and in many of them you seem to have more negative things to say about how they make you feel than positive. So I was curious to know your stance on them, and why you keep writing for them. (If this is too invasive, you don’t have to reply)

Also, I really enjoyed Ricochet. It sold the ship to me, basically (but now I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing)..

First off, I'm really glad you liked Ricochet! It's one of the fics I'm still really proud of, and I'm currently in a project with fanartist @showerwhoops and a friend who makes fandom light novels to make it printable with lots of gorgeous art. I mean, mostly I just love collabs and wanna support G's light novel-making hobby, but hopefully other people will find that exciting to know.

With regard to Yeehan, lol, I'm struggling to figure out how to answer this, especially without context for which tweets in particular. The simple answer is yeah, I'm a Yeehan shipper. I love them. I've said it before, but I basically trauma-bonded to them and can't let go. But also I love the themes of redemption and the various forms that can take, and people finding love not when they're young and fresh-faced but when they're jaded and have been through some shit, and seeing two people fight not only to make the world better but to make themselves better people together. I love all of that. It's delicious. I also love writing them as dumb himbos because why the heck not.

I've been in this fandom since 2018. I've written 70+ fics just for Yeehan (plus a few dozen others for the rest of Overwatch), and I'm still writing it. Of my last three art commissions, one was Hanzo and one was Yeehan. I started Yeehan Fic Rec Friday (@yeehanfrf) to help new people find good Yeehan recs sourced from the community, not just one person, and to lift up my fellow writers. All of this is on my twitter, and that's not even getting into all the fan events I've participated in, etc., before this year. So yeah, I'd say I'm a fan, lol.

Unless you're mistaking my shitposting and lovingly mocking the characters for meanness, maybe the negativity you're seeing is when I'm being critical of the fandom itself? In which case... you know, I'm going to take this as an opportunity. And it's gonna get kind of long, so let's go behind a cut.

I can only reiterate that I've been here since 2018. I've seen so much shit, and while some of it has come from "outsiders" (other shippers, people who are sick of Overwatch, etc.), plenty of it has come from my fellow Yeehans too. And while most of my frustration with the Yeehan fandom is on the level of, you know, family that you love but would like to shake some sense into, that doesn't change that it can be frustrating.

Here, an assuredly incomplete list of all the things I've experienced from other Yeehan fans:

I've seen people harassed outright for drawing/writing the "wrong" character bottoming. I've seen literally dozens of nonbinary and transmasc people misgendered and harassed for being "fujoshi" "fetishizinig mlm," because nothing says great justice like blending transphobia and misogyny to attack real people over fictional characters. I've been here for at least 10 different rounds of witch hunts for various fandom "crimes" like people shipping characters with a bad-idea-in-real-life age gap or power imbalance, or even just shipping the same character with multiple people.

I was here when Cassidy's animated short dropped and it took less than an hour to see hate posts about Ashe. And I was also here when fandom retconned the tale of those events to claim Yeehan fans only hate her because some of her fans are shitty, and it can't possibly under any circumstances be misogyny ever. (Which is not saying that some of her fans aren't shitty. It's just that some Yeehan fans are also shitty and in denial about it.)

I've been outright harassed for talking about fandom misogyny, no matter how kitten gentle and "Let's Have a Teaching Moment" I've been about it. I've been harassed for pointing out fandom racism. I've seen a friend get ostracized and harassed much worse for pointing out the same fandom racism and misogyny. And this is, of course, on top of actually seeing and reading racist portrayals of Hanzo and occasionally Cassidy, and seeing and reading constant misogyny (mostly over Ashe, but not exclusive to her) to remind me that men get to have greater interiority and receive more sympathy and get their flaws smoothed over in ways women never do, in fiction and in reality. But hey, don't point any of that out, because fandom is supposed to be a place for escapism, even if those things are making it difficult to escape, yourself! (And then of course I've seen people attacked really harshly over the kind of "they probably genuinely did not know better and it would have been an easy fix if someone just very kindly explained it to them instead of needing to publicly punish them" racism or misogyny.)

I've had someone hold a sustained, months-long campaign of just constantly shit-talking me and low-grade harassing me across multiple Discord servers, and recruiting their friends to do the same, all because I said, "Hey, you've been consistently rude and also triggered me this one time."

I've had anons in my inbox doing everything from demanding I write more to accusing me of pedophilia (or supporting it) for... I don't even know at this point, lol. Because that's a thing people do in fandoms, I guess.

Maybe because I'm prolific or maybe because I actually talk to anons or maybe because I have a follower count above the triple digits, a lot of people have treated me like I'm nothing but a content machine, not a person, which is something I've seen plenty of people do to other artists and writers across fandom. It's crummy. It makes me feel like I don't belong here if I'm not "producing," and even then I'm only tolerated for that, not for, like, my basic humanity (or being funny as hell imho). I've had people attack me over dumb jokes or act like I'm not a "real fan" for them (despite the aforementioned 70+ fics, like I guess those don't count if I make a joke about Cassidy being kind of a douche one time in his animated short).

And anything that's happened to me, I've seen happen to other people. Often worse, actually, because I get far fewer rude comments on my fanfic than several of my friends do, and nobody's misgendering me when they imply I'm a woman, even if they do sometimes erase my queerness.

On the scale of things that are mostly just annoying/stressful and not so much acts of aggression, fandom does this thing where it just freaks out (positive or negative) about something instantly, so I get spoiled on stuff if I don't see it within 15 minutes after it dropped? That's frustrating, especially if the reaction is largely negative, so I'm just, like, absorbing all these bad vibes before I ever get to see the thing for myself.

And then, you know, shipwars. Shipwars are obnoxious. They are exhausting. I do not have time for them. They are also unavoidable these days. Any time I go searching for content, there's someone shitting on Yeehan and someone else stirring the pot by replying to them, and frankly it's just tiresome from all sides. (Besides, I think if you're a fan of the juggernaut ship in a fandom, you've gotta chill and recognize people will find you annoying, then go comfort yourself with your near-daily fanarts and over 6,000 fics. This doesn't mean they're allowed to be absolutely garbage monsters and harass people. Like I'm not pretending Yeehan fans are the only people capable of sucking, lol. They aren't! Online harassment is shitty at all times! But if all they're saying is, "Why does Yeehan get so much attention? I hate it," you can just ignore them, mute them, block them, whatever you gotta do.)

In general, I'm often critical of fandom, especially my corner of it, mostly because I'm a social scientist by training so observing groups of people is what I do. Like genuinely, I enjoy holding the world around me under a microscope. But also in terms of reach and efficacy, I'm more interested in "cleaning up my own backyard," so to speak, than arguing with people who wouldn't listen to me anyway (Yeehan antis in this case, I guess). So when I turn the "negative" lens on, it's of course going to be aimed at the community I'm most embedded in. It doesn't mean people outside of Yeehan are better or worse people; they're just not the ones I'm exposed to constantly, lol.

But also, as many bad things as this sounds like, I've actually mostly enjoyed my time in this fandom. I've made a ton of friends here, people I adore and respect and am so, so grateful to have in my life. I've gotten to be part of some really cool projects. I've been lucky enough to experience the absolute joy of knowing people like something that I've made, of getting to make stuff for people, of people telling me I inspired them to make things. All of those are really special, wonderful things that places like fandom cultivate, and I love that part so much that it makes me feel gooey and self-conscious about trying to articulate it.

Anyway. I'm sure the actual question you asked got answered in the paragraphs above the cut, but just in case it didn't, it was nice to be able to just say all the things anyway. You're new here. I hope you enjoy all the fun parts and don't get bogged down by the crummy ones. Also you should definitely check out the @yeehanfrf rec lists if you haven't.

#robo answers #anonymous #whoops this got long but #have fun reading this absolute word dumpster

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ohblackdiamond · 3 months

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black and gold (kiss/endgame crossover, part 19 of ?)

Prequel to “the end of the world tour.” Four ex-bandmates and even-more-ex-superheroes reunite in the aftermath of Thanos’ snap, and attempt to adjust.

In this chapter: "There’s shit I gotta get over. That’s what she’s telling me. I gotta do better. Be better. But I keep fucking up, you know? I keep fucking up."

After all their travels, Paul and Gene finally make it to Peter's house.

“FEMA Beneficiaries: Refugees and Rockers”

Associated Press, Chicago, Illinois

Celebrities have been the last thing on anyone’s mind lately.

Some are tweeting-- apocalypse claims, government conspiracy theories. Some are donating, most especially Tony Stark of Stark Industries. But most have stayed silent, and stayed put.

Most. The road warriors of rock and roll, Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley of KISS, in what may be the most telling sign of the times yet, were seen in a FEMA breadline, both bearded and almost entirely unrecognizable.

They paid for the food, before you ask. They’re traveling, they say, to Connecticut. Their path has been as fraught as any ordinary American’s; their tragedy is the world’s. Simmons and Stanley aren’t returning to their families. They have no families to return to.

Simmons is talkative enough, though Stanley is more aloof as they settle in to take a bite beneath a FEMA tent. Neither is dressed for the below-freezing weather, the seven-inch heels have taken a backseat to worn-out athletic shoes. Simmons notices my glance down.

“You like them? I was going to throw these to the crowd on the cruise,” he says. “They’re serving me better on my feet right now.”

Cruises may never happen again for years. The me-generation, franchise-heaving seventies excess that KISS once represented has never been more blatantly out of reach. Two weeks ago, I might have asked about album plans and tour stops, about Simmons’ recentish marriage and Stanley’s painting escapades. That’s irrelevant now.

I feel like just by spotting them beneath the tent, I’ve pulled the mask off the Lone Ranger. KISS exposed is just another reflection of the brave new world we’ve been saddled with, half a population struggling to survive. And yet, I’m craving. Maybe I want something to believe in among the ashes. A lunchbox superhero to greet me at the last days. Plastic-wrapped and pre-packaged. They can’t oblige-- their last crimefighting stint was in 1980-- but I’d like to see some vestiges. I’d like a little comfort.

Simmons scolds me, gently. The real heroes, in his opinion, are the FEMA workers, the healthcare workers, the law enforcement-- anyone, and everyone, who’s stepped up in the wake of the devastation. Not KISS. “We’re very ordinary, ultimately.”

“Like everyone else, we’re just trying to go home.” Stanley looks a bit surprised at his own words, then, quietly, elaborates. “We’re going to see our old bandmates.”

And what then? For once, even Simmons doesn’t have an answer. I can speculate-- Simmons in particular is known for charitable donations-- but I don’t know. At the end of the world, maybe going home is the best that they, or any of us, can do.

The road went on. Paul would drive for five hours at a time, then an hour of rest, then another five hours, then they’d sleep in parking lots or FEMA campsites or national parks. Once, they were able to wash their clothes, and twice they got to shower.

They had run out of cash before they’d hit New England, but that didn’t matter much now that their cards were working again. They’d been eating mostly peanut butter sandwiches and whatever else they could pay for over the last several days. Gene was feeling himself falter, in odd, funny ways. Sometimes, with the lull of the motor, he could almost make himself pretend they were just on tour for a few foolish seconds, before he’d see a campsite or a pile of abandoned cars or a burnt-out building and remember. Pure escapism.

“Gene?”

Paul reached out, patting his thigh. It was midmorning, and he was driving again. Gene stirred.

“We’re about three hours from Peter’s place, if the traffic doesn’t get any worse.”

“We better call him.”

“Yeah. You… you go ahead and call.”

“Put it on speaker?”

Paul inclined his head.

“Hey.” Ace’s voice was tinny.

“Hey. We should be here in about three more hours.”

“Good. Good. Lemme get Peter.” Ace didn’t cover the phone, though Gene hadn’t expected him to, and he could hear Ace yelling Peter’s name. Could practically feel Paul stiffen up as Peter’s voice came through the speaker.

“Three hours?”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” Gene felt his lips start to raise in a battered attempt at a smile. “Don’t roll out the red carpet.”

“I won’t. Ace told me about the fucking truck.”

Paul mumbled a curse barely below his breath.

“Do you need anything?” It felt a little stupid to ask. “We weren’t sure how much you’d been able to get out.”

“We ain’t been out at all, Gene.”

God. Gene glanced sidelong at Paul, who didn’t glance his way. They both had to be going completely stir-crazy. They both used to get so antsy on tour when KISS had been stuck, really stuck, in their hotel rooms. Even Paul had succumbed once or twice to the standard rockstar antics, throwing all his furniture out the window in a fit of pique (and, Gene suspected, drunkenness).

“Is it really that bad out there?”

“You’d know better than us. Wouldn’t you?”

“Petey…” Ace again.

“Ace just won’t leave me here alone. I didn’t figure he’d be playing fucking nursemaid out here.”

“’M just trying to help.”

“Trying to–”

“We’ve got some loaf bread and canned goods, but we don’t have very much else. We’ll be bringing those. If there’s anything you need, we can try to get it.” Gene didn’t elaborate on how difficult it was to really get even basic staples, between the rioting and looting. The help from FEMA had been sluggish at best.

“We don’t need any–”

“Oranges,” Ace said.

“Oranges?” Paul, incredulous. “Are you kidding?”

“You don’t gotta go out of your way for ’em–”

“What do you want with oranges?”

“Well, I wanna eat ’em, Paul. Open my mouth and chew and swallow.” Ace’s tone was unusually dry. Not even the hint of a laugh in his voice. “They’re healthy.”

“You don’t ever fucking quit, do you?” Peter snapped out.

“Peter, I didn’t mean–”

“We’ll try to get some oranges,” Gene said quickly. “We’ll see you soon.”

–

Paul was quiet from then on. It took longer than the three hours he’d been vying for. For whatever reason, Paul had gotten hellbent on those oranges, stopping in five different areas before he was able to garner a plastic bag full of them.

“What’d you pay for those?” Gene asked, once they’d gotten back in the truck. Paul just winced and started up the motor.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Why did you care that much about getting them?”

“You don’t wanna know that, either.”

“Try me.”

“She said there was a call for me if I wanted it.”

Gene started to ask who she was. Then he realized he probably knew. Paul must be in bad shape again, thinking of her, thinking he’d heard from her.

“I was trying so hard to figure it out. I was always figuring with her. She was like that.” Paul’s eyes were on the road. “But it’s obvious, isn’t it? The only calls I’m ever going to get now are from them. There’s shit I gotta get over. That’s what she’s telling me. I gotta do better. Be better. But I keep fucking up, you know? I keep fucking up.”

“Paul–”

“You know it’s true. I can’t help myself. Here I am about to stay at Peter’s house and I haven’t even talked to him one on one. What the hell is wrong with me? I know that guy. I-I know him. I fucking lived on the road with him for over ten years. God, I–”

“Paul–”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when I see him.”

“You’re overthinking it. Stop.” Maybe it was too much of a brush off, but he thought, in his way, Paul might have appreciated it. He didn’t stiffen up the way he normally did when offended, at least, and after a bit, Paul reached over, touching Gene’s knee.

The road went on. The pavement’s endless stretch. Highways and interstates, on and on, in the hopes of something eternal. The road took Gene back, too, back to thinking about Peter, less abstractly now that the journey was ending.

Peter had always had the best taste. Which was funny, looking back-- the high school dropout of the group, who’d grown up the oldest of about half a dozen kids in the middle of Brooklyn, able to pick out the hippest outfits, the best designs. The best-looking women, arguably. The best-looking houses. His mansion in Greenwich, easily dwarfed though it was in comparison to Gene or Paul’s places, or even Ace’s old home in Wilton, had a class that nobody else’s place could even hope to have. It looked like it came out of a storybook, tucked within four acres of Connecticut forest. In the winter it looked like Currier and Ives; in the summer, it-- in the summer, it looked just as radiant.

At least, that was how it used to be.

The first thing Peter had done once the Reunion tour had started was buy that place back. That was Peter for you. Sentimentality incarnate. Everything like it was before. Paul had joked once, cruelly, that he’d been surprised Peter hadn’t done the whole damn house back up in wood paneling and shag carpets once it was his again. Even at the time, Gene had thought it was a hell of a thing for Paul to say while painting himself up in the makeup from twenty years prior.

Paul had turned off the GPS maybe fifteen minutes before they’d pulled into his driveway, evidently knowing the route far better than Gene would’ve ever anticipated. Peter’s place was on a private drive, though that had ceased to matter over the last few weeks. Looking at the house’s exterior now, it wasn’t dilapidated or even unkempt. Just older. The styling was giving its age away.

“You ready?”

Paul had already parked, but he hadn’t moved to even unbuckle himself. He had pulled down the vanity mirror, was staring at himself in silence.

“We look like shit,” he said.

“Ace and Peter aren’t gonna look any better.”

“We should’ve tried to get razors after shiva was over.” Paul ran his fingers over the heavy, coarse facial hair on his jawline, the gray streaks surprisingly far outnumbered by black, even now. “They’ve never seen me look this bad.”

“Paul, they aren’t gonna give a fuck right now.”

“I do.”

“You are absolutely the vainest man I’ve ever met in my life.”

“It’s not just that. Gene, Ace hasn’t even left the house yet because of Peter. If Peter sees me looking like this, if he thinks I can’t hold it together, then– then maybe I can’t, maybe I won’t be able to–”

“You don’t have to. All you have to do is get out of the truck.”

Paul bit his lip and unbuckled his seatbelt, getting out of the truck in silence. Gene helped him take their luggage out of the back.

He’d thought it would feel so much more definite. Like all those moments where his life had turned on the tiniest hinge. The sight of Bill Aucoin in his smart suit, offering them a record contract inside of two weeks. The sight of his firstborn in the hospital, that head full of dark hair, those bright eyes.

The sight of four talismans in a velvet box.

Paul was behind him, luggage handle in one hand, bag of oranges in the other. He was dragging the luggage carelessly up the brick front porch stairs, the wheels rattling against them in protest. Gene hadn’t so much as reached for the door knocker before the door swung open.

Ace.

Ace, in jeans and a t-shirt and socks. His goatee was somewhat unkempt. No sunglasses– not that he expected him in them, but it had been years and years since Gene had seen him without them. No makeup, either. Ace’s skin was as bad as ever, sallow and scarred, a couple of pimples right on the side of one cheek. The poor alien bastard still had acne at sixty-three.

Gene hugged him. Fully. It was the first time in years he had, without there being a show or a ceremony or a pile of fans with their phones trying to record the moment. Just shoved himself against him, arms wrapping tight around him. Ace buckled a bit, thrown off-balance as always, but he hugged him back in turn, face pressing briefly against his shirt, then pulling away. Gene felt Ace clasp a hand briefly against his back just before he let go.

“Hey, Gene,” he said. “Hey, Paul. C’min.”

They stepped inside. Gene made room for Paul, who put an arm around Ace for a brief, quiet moment, and then pushed the bag of oranges into his hands. Ace’s expression changed a little then, became almost searching, before it faltered.

“Where’s Peter?”

“He… he’s in the kitchen. Paul, he’s not–”

“I know.” Paul strode past them both, going past the entranceway and the dining room, heading straight for the kitchen. Ace followed a bit behind, then Gene, a weird quiver somewhere in the tips of his fingers, and in his throat. Peter’s place was still too familiar, even with some newer decor. Enough remnants of the past remained. A set of raku tea bowls Lydia’d bought him on tour in Japan was still in the armoire in the dining room. A faded photo of Peter from his First Communion was on a buffet table. And there behind the sink, next to the windowsill, was a tarnished silver ring dish in the shape of a cat, one paw up, its tail covered in an assortment of rings. Peter had had that since their third tour, a memento, though Gene couldn’t remember where he’d received it. His eyes were darting everywhere– the clean stovetop and microwave, the print of The Last Supper on the wall, the dirty plates on the table– everywhere except for at Peter.

Peter, who was sitting down against the fridge, wrapped up in a blanket. He had shaved, but badly, white stubble peeking out in patches across his chin. He only barely lifted his head when they walked in.

“Pete,” Gene started. Peter shifted, putting out a hand against the floor, like he was about to brace himself and get up. But Paul got there first. Gene could barely believe it as he watched Paul crouch down, squat at first, before getting on his knees and putting an arm around him, there on the floor.

Peter was crying. Gene had seen it a hundred times at least, but never like this. Not a shudder, barely a sound, just the tears. Paul held him there, rubbing his shoulder, without a murmur. Gene glanced at Ace, realizing suddenly that this was what Ace had been dealing with all this time, why Ace didn’t want to leave him alone. He was afraid for him, terribly so.

Paul let go once the tears seemed to stop, standing up a bit awkwardly. After a moment or two, Peter stood, too, after unraveling from the blanket. The effort of getting up made him grunt a bit, rubbing his back. He was in a t-shirt and pajamas. Gene hadn’t seen Peter in anything quite that casual in more than ten years.

“You made it.”

“We made it.”

“You… Gene, you…”

Then Gene was holding him. Peter had never felt fragile to him before now. He was thin, those drummers’ arms all but gone when he grasped Gene’s waist. Gene could feel those shuddering breaths against him, but as Ace had done with Paul, Peter let go abruptly.

(you’re feeling it)

(aren’t you?)

Gene didn’t know. All he knew was a peace and security that he thought he’d lost forever. All he knew was that he was sure he could make it now. Sure this was what they all needed. They had scraped together before. They could do it again. They would do it again. A few days together, maybe even a week or two, to… to get settled, to start to… reckon with themselves, with the world, to maybe… to maybe start to heal. Warmth melded with exhaustion in his bones as he pulled up a chair, sinking down into the seat.

“Y-you can tell us the whole trip later,” said Peter quietly. “But you gotta shower first. Both of you stink.”

“It’s Road Warrior,” Gene said, feeling the wobbling remnants of a smile skirt the edges of his face. “Very unique aroma, for the discerning traveler.”

“It’s B.O.,” Ace said, laughing harder than the statement merited, that old cackle, reaching over to clasp a hand on Gene’s back. “Ain’t got an excuse now, Geno. Get washed up. We’ll, we’ll make you some sandwiches or something, we…”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” As quickly as he’d come into the kitchen, Paul was darting out again, already headed for where Gene vaguely remembered the master bed and bath being. But he turned, calling over his shoulder, voice wobbling slightly. “You’re okay with us, right? You’ll let us–”

Ace shook his head.

“Christ, after all that, you want an invite, Paul? You were let in forty years ago.”

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley #gene simmons #ace frehley #peter criss

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noeyesmayseeyou · 1 year

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I posted 491 times in 2022

70 posts created (14%)

421 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@spiritboxradio

@samwise1548

@collectoroflovelythings

@jonnywaistcoat

@ashes-in-a-jar

I tagged 459 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#tma - 236 posts

#a81 adaptation - 78 posts

#archive 81 netflix spoilers - 49 posts

#wolf 359 - 23 posts

#spirit box radio - 19 posts

#wooden overcoats - 17 posts

#wtnv - 15 posts

#tmp - 9 posts

#chapter and multiverse - 7 posts

#a81 - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#because of the recent mcr brainrot (that i believe those reblogs have also fallen victim to) i also initially thought it was about g way

My Top Posts in 2022:

7 MINUTES IN AND THEY GAL PALLED MELODY AND ALEXA WHAT THE FUCK I'M SUING

13 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

Fjfkfk Dan can just leave. Like he can leave whenever he wants and is in constant contact with Mark and they are actually MEETING IN PERSON LMAO.

14 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

As usual, absolute Fear at how the Archive 81 TV show is gonna turn out

21 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

Whenever Dan smiles at the Melody footage I wanna kill everyone responsible for this adaptation HE DOESN'T LIKE HER. LIKE CANONICALLY IN THE PODCAST HE LITERALLY SAYS SO. HOW DO YOU FUCK UP THIS BAD.

29 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hey there! If you consider yourself a fan of fiction horror podcasts, then I have a recommendation for you!

Spirit Box Radio is about Sam Enfield, who finds himself replacing renowned psychic the Illustrious Madame Marie as host of the Advice and Community Segment, a show for witches, arcanists, and the magically-inclined. However, Sam seems to have no penchant for the Arcane Arts, and in his struggles to be a good host he finds out that the show may be haunted not by ghosts, but by secrets.

The show has the creeping sense of unease of The Magnus Archives, the weird whimsy of Welcome to Night Vale and the LGBTQ+ representation of Hello from the Hallowoods!

If this sounds like something you'd like, then I have good news for you: The show has completed two whole seasons and a third (and final!) one is in the works, but it needs your help!

youtube

The show is trying to raise £6500 by October 28th to pay everyone who works on it, like it was able to do in its second season thanks to the previous crowdfunder. Please consider supporting if you've got the means!

Other ways you can support are reblogging this post and/or this post, retweeting this tweet and, of course, listening to the show on your podcatcher of choice!

EDIT: The crowdfunder has now closed, a huge thank you to everyone who supported it!! I still highly recommend you give this pod a listen.

169 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#loving sbr and hating the a81 adaptation truly defined my year hah #Youtube

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jewishjon · 1 year

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I posted 7,164 times in 2022

That's 5,126 more posts than 2021!

99 posts created (1%)

7,065 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fricklefracklefloof

@vang0bus

@mag200

@ashes-in-a-jar

@natequarter

I tagged 931 of my posts in 2022

#the magnus archives - 43 posts

#jonathan sims - 39 posts

#dk don't look - 36 posts

#tma - 33 posts

#unreality - 32 posts

#jonmartin - 30 posts

#prev tags - 27 posts

#dk don’t look - 22 posts

#martin blackwood - 22 posts

#jmart - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 131 characters

#jmart au where jon can’t look at ppl without compelling them/eating their fear and martin who’s autistic and can’t make eye contact

My Top Posts in 2022:

This looks very exciting! Here is the whole thread so you can see some of the other very cool-looking stories that will be coming in the podcast https://twitter.com/TheRustyQuill/status/1547249500120526848?s=20&t=VJT97wnKnnTDp2pJbLffSQ.

[Image description: Two images featuring tweets from Twitter user Rusty Quill @/therustyquill. The first reads: ‘Introducing a new anthology podcast: Neon Inkwell, releasing in October 2022. #NeonInkwell is a home for short-form audiodrama, introducing listeners to new and underrepresented creators (as well as a few familiar faces). (1/7)’. Also in the tweet is an image of the show artwork for Neon Inkwell. The background has a frosted glass effect, with many colours ranging from purples to yellows and reds. In the centre is a diamond shape, with two faces. In white, stylised capital letters are the words ‘Neon Inkwell’.

The second tweet reads ‘Firstly, ‘Of That Colossal Wreck’, science fiction with a horror twist, by some familiar names for fans of The Magnus Archives: @SiennaSasha and @/jonnywaistcoat. On a space ship, long after the extinction of humanity, five people awaken - but they may not be alone… (3/7)’ Under the tweet is an image that is a social media card for Neon Inkwell. The background has a frosted glass effect, with colours ranging from purples to greens. On the left-hand side is the Neon Inkwell show artwork. On the right is text with two photographs of Jonny Sims and Sasha Sienna underneath. Text reads: ‘Of That Colossal Wreck’. When five artificially grown people awaken on an abandoned space station long after the extinction of humanity, they must confront their purpose, their future and the carnivorous alien beings which have taken over the facility. Created by Jonathan Sims (he/him) and Sasha Sienna (he/she/they)’. End ID]

511 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

magnus archives fans

1,605 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

*talking to someone I’m trying to get into tma* Ok so that’s Jon, the main character. Then there’s Jonny, the guy who wrote it. There’s also Jonny, Jonny’s character in the band the Mechanisms. And of course don’t forget John, the character who Jonny - the creator - is playing in upcoming podcast Re: Dracula. You need to remember that Rusty Quill and the transcripts really like to spell Jon (you remember, the main character) as John. Yeah, yeah, so don’t worry, it’s not hard to remember at all.

1,774 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

I am telling myself not to get my hopes up bc this probably means nothing. but also I will not be sleeping tonight.

2,174 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Oh god oh fuck oh no

[image description: a screenshot of an article from the Financial Times where the headline reads ‘Tumblr picks itself up again after years of struggle’ and the excerpt underneath reads ‘Creative, chaotic and anonymous, the blogging platform has lots of appeal for Gen Z.’ End ID.]

27,721 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #sorry for reposting this I accidentally deleted the last one #Rlly sorry to everyone getting tagged twice

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mayasdeluca · 2 years

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Ash’s right knee is still injured? How serious is this?

I guess pretty serious now that we know from her tweet she needed surgery 😩 I didn’t think it was too bad since she seemed to be moving around fine but then I noticed in that Make A Wish vid when she bent down for the pic on her knee it looked like she was struggling and it was painful so I guess it was bad enough to need some work done. I’m sure between all the wear and tear over the years too it’s just worn down but maybe it isn’t that serious if she’s saying she’ll be back on the field in a few weeks. That kinda surprises me too since this season is a wash anyway and there’s only a few more games left but at least that means she’ll probably play again this season.

#asks #anon #I know some were thinking she wouldn’t play again this year #and then might retire in the offseason which would’ve been rough #but sounds like that won’t happen which is good

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paranormalpainter · 4 months

Text

Amethyst Magicjewel Headcanons:

She has 6 family members who are also attending DCA, Ruby who’s a fellow living gem like her and her sister living in Dragonstone, Emerald another living gem and her sister who’s living in Magiaoasis, Prism her human sister who’s living in the same dorm as her, Evelyn her cousin living in the same dorm as her, Noel her cousin living in Futterwacken, and Sapphire her cousin who’s living in the same dorm as Ruby

She has a sweet and polite personality, but is also a bit of a clutz sometimes as well as someone who gets easily distracted, which can sometimes lead to her getting broken when she isn’t cautious of her surroundings. If she finds a room cluttered and messy, she will swiftly clean and organize it

She got the nickname “Glastanzerin’s cleaning maid” because during her spare time, she spends her time cleaning up after her roommates or dorm head if they leave a mess behind or helping her teacher’s get organized for the following day’s lesson

Her ranking on the mohs scale is a 7 meaning her body is durable as long as she remembers to be careful of her surroundings

She struggles with Fencing/Swordfighting because on more than a few occasions when in a panic, she accidentally uses her arm as a shield in the heat of the moment of a fight causing her to lose her arm in the process

Her unique magic is called “Calming Glitter” whenever someone is feeling an intense emotion, like rage, anxiety, or despair, she can summon some of her sparkles and use it to put the person’s mind at ease, but she has to be careful if the emotion the person is feeling is too much for her to handle, her body will gradually begin to crack to the point of breaking

Her pets are a crowned woodnymph Prism carved out of purple and green quartz named “Allegra” because she always tweets her favorite songs when she’s happy, a toyger kitten named “Tiger” due to how energetic she is and a mangalarga marchador horse she named “Ash” due to the gray dusty patterns on his fur

She doesn’t like going into the Futterwacken dorm due to the chaotic interior and environment of the dorm. Gives her a migraine every time she walks in.

When it comes to visiting Magiaoasis she’s worried about a monkey handling a sword or bladed weapom deciding to chop off her hand and running off with it since it happened twice to Emerald during her time in Magiaoasis.

She sometimes worries about Ruby going near the basement of Dragonstone since she knows the heat and intense pressure in the basement and their gem bodies don’t mix and always asks her if she drank a heat resistor potion or cast a heat resistor potion on her body if she visited the basement, just in case to make sure she didn’t melt

If a single part of her body is chipped or broken, she can fix it herself, but if her head breaks off, she loses both her arms, or she’s shattered into pieces, she would need extra assistance to piece her back together{In other words, she hopes the person helping repair her shattered body is good with puzzles}

She along with Ruby and Emerald carry what appears to be a small makeup bag that contains glue as well as white and cocoa colored powder in case they crack, break, or their powder washes off. They also carry waterproof resin in case they have to visit the Coquille dormitory

Her first performance song would be “0 week old” from the pripara series: https://youtu.be/REIrY-aQsu8

Her nickname is Amie-chan

Diamond Crown Academy(C) @phoenix-manga

Amethyst Magicjewel(C) Me

#dca oc #diamond crown academy #Amethyst Magicjewel

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xtruss · 11 months

Text

Photographs by Clark Hodgin for The New Yorker

Trying to Breathe in a City of Smoke

As the world warms and Canada burns, what once seemed unprecedented is becoming familiar.

— By Carolyn Kormann | June 7, 2023

When the smoke comes, you notice it in your body before you see it in the air. On Monday evening, I went for a run and then felt queasy and lethargic. Only on Tuesday did I notice the haze in Manhattan. By Tuesday night, the air smelled like barbecue. On the half-mile walk to my yoga studio, I saw a few people in N95 masks, and I wished I had worn mine. I started to get nauseated; my eyes felt itchy. A young man on the street cried out, “Those Canadian wildfires are sick, bro!” Online, someone tweeted about the “Blade Runner-ass weather.” I half expected the neighborly camaraderie that arises during intense storms and lunar eclipses, but mostly people just squinted and carried on. I worried about Frannie, my ninety-six-year-old landlady, who had walked four blocks to a neighborhood restaurant and back. She told me that she didn’t notice the smoke.

By Wednesday morning, ash was falling in northern New York. School trips and soccer games were cancelled. A friend texted, “Are you going to go outside and take a few drags off the sky?” I heard of a woman sitting on her front steps, struggling to breathe even with the help of oxygen. Friends of friends were reminded of places like Delhi, where daily exposure to severe air pollution can be deadly. New York City recorded the worst air pollution of any major city in the world, according to the company IQAir, and it was still getting worse. Just after noon, the magnolia and tulip trees outside my window shook violently in the wind. As weather forecasters had promised, a wall of smoke blew into Manhattan. At a Broadway matinée, the actress Jodie Comer said that she couldn’t breathe and left the stage.

The smoke was coming from Canada, where more than four hundred wildfires are currently burning. We do not know what caused many of them—a dropped cigarette, lightning, a downed electrical wire—but they are raging through the boreal forests of British Columbia, Alberta, and now Quebec. Wildfires are nothing new in these woodlands, but these are much earlier and larger than usual. And, like so many recent fires, they are directly linked to weeks of anomalous extreme heat. Climate change has created longer, hotter summers; worsened droughts; and fuelled vast bark-beetle infestations that have killed billions of trees.

We keep experiencing things that are unprecedented, worse than anything anyone can remember, even as we’re told that they will become common. “You’re likely to see events like this more often, where you have prolonged heat that dries out forests and makes these fires more likely,” Marshall Burke, a professor at Stanford University, and a leading expert on wildfire-smoke exposure and impacts, told me. Burke has plotted the levels of fine particles, which scientists call PM2.5 because they are 2.5 microns or smaller, in the past seventeen years of New York City air. The past two days, he said, have been off the charts. But even these levels didn’t reach what West Coast cities, including San Francisco and Seattle, have experienced in the past few years.

“There is no safe exposure to PM2.5,” Burke told me. In the past decade, research has shown that these particles can penetrate deep into the lungs, enter the bloodstream, and even reach the brain. They are associated with heart attacks and dementia. Even among healthy people, Burke and his team have found that, with higher levels of air pollution, cognitive performance decreases, and workers are less productive. There is a very strong relationship between even just short-term smoke exposure and poor pregnancy outcomes—in particular, preterm birth. Research by Burke and his collaborators has concluded that, when there are fifty micrograms per cubic metre of PM2.5 in the air, emergency-department visits for asthma tend to double. Burke checked New York’s numbers at that moment, around 1 p.m., and saw that they had reached about a hundred and fifty micrograms. “That’s just crazy,” Burke told me.

I told Burke that smoke had begun to seep into my office, like a deskside bonfire. “This is a really important point,” Burke said. “I mean, we can stay inside, but being inside is imperfect.” He pulled up a map of indoor air quality, which draws on data from citizen scientists who are publicly sharing measurements from their air monitors. “I’m just looking at Manhattan right now,” he told me. “I can see inside people’s homes, and they’re at sixty, or even above a hundred micrograms inside.” This is far above the threshold, outdoors, that would double emergency-room visits for asthma. In poorer communities, highways, power plants, and leaky buildings often make this problem persistent.

By one-thirty, the world through my window looked sepia. The sky turns orange because only longer wavelengths of light penetrate the smoke. Frannie, my elderly landlady, was now concerned. She has spent her life in New York and has never seen anything like this. She put on a mask inside; so did I. I worried about my sister, a teacher in Yonkers, who has bad asthma and felt light-headed and dizzy. “I’m feeling a little nervous and scared,” she told me in a voice mail. “I have students who are asthmatics, too. It’s really eerie to see how it’s bright yellow outside, and you can see the smoke sitting. Nothing that we’ve ever experienced here. Makes me feel more for those that experience this out West. Also, a good teaching opportunity.” She meant, quite literally, a science lesson about air-quality levels and their resulting health impacts. But what is it supposed to teach us? We know the story of the climate crisis, of how wealthy nations have burned fossil fuels at an astonishing rate, pushing our planet to the brink. Yet we live as though we do not, and we breathe the consequences. ♦

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xprojectrpg · 1 year

Photo

Moment of Awesome - Gabriel Cohuelo/Velocidad:

While X-Force is staying at Ranch X before splitting up, Gabe has a very blunt conversation with the madam, Stacy X

"Please stop talking to me like this is any other business," Gabriel responded without even taking a beat. "I know it is for you. I know it mostly is. I know it's legal here and regulated, and I don't know you from Adam, but I am sure you're an ethical madam and everything is above board and everybody is treated perfectly well. But don't say clients or professionals or talent, not to me." He flicked ash on the ground. "I know sex work is work. I'm a good millennial. I'm online, I read all the viral tweets. But this is... this is just..." He stared at the cigarette in his right hand. "And you, at the top of it all."

She paused for a long moment, her look searching. "The difference between the world you remember and the one I've created here is that I don't make the decisions for other people. I'm not pretending this place is some kind of altruistic endeavor. I make my money. But I use terms like professionals and talent because that is what they have chosen to be before I ever got involved." She gave him a slight, knowing smile. "But I also don't expect to change your mind over a cigarette. But I'm happy to answer any questions any time you have them. So would most of the people here."

It was his turn to pause and consider that. "I don't want to ask," he finally said. "I can't imagine — I don't even..." He couldn't vocalize what he wanted to say. He wasn't even sure what he was thinking or feeling; he'd lost his ability to think straight when they'd gotten here. Too many memories — well, impressions, more like, they weren't specific, but they were flooding his brain, and he loathed how little control he had over that. For years, he'd kept a part of himself locked up, and then a demon ripped open the lockbox and preyed upon the weaker parts of his soul. And now he was sitting here next to a woman who had, apparently, had a similar journey and turned it into wealth and status and something good, when all it had brought him was darkness and pain.

He looked up, surprised by a choking noise that he'd heard, and it was only after a moment that he realized his face was wet and the noise was in fact his own guttural sob, a violent sound that, if he were a more poetic person, he'd imagine had been working its way out of his lungs for years.

She touched him carefully, gingerly. Just his shoulders to start, light enough that he could break away with a twitch and looked into his eyes. "I know. I know. But, if nothing else, you're safe here." Stacy said. "If nothing else, believe that from me."

Gabriel had flinched at her touch. Her words made him want to crawl into a hole. The whole thing was absolutely mortifying. Had he felt this exposed when his mind had leaked his fear and shame and recollections to Quentin? He couldn't remember, but it felt different; he remembered being more stoic, more matter-of-fact. Certainly he hadn't reacted like this.

He sat there for a bit, no longer making noise, trying to stay calm, not wanting to look at her or say anything or acknowledge how his body and brain were betraying him. He knew she understood on some level, and that made it easier, but it also made him hate the way he was now acting. And yet at the same time, even though she got the contours, she didn't know him, and maybe that made the whole thing less meaningful, because there were no stakes.

"They don't know," he said, his voice shaky but mostly under control. "Not even Sydney." There was an implicit warning there that he suspected she'd understand. "Never got caught. No trouble with the law, no paper trail."

"Makes things a little easier." As he'd struggled, she had pulled back, leaving him back in his own space. "Can't vouch for the rest of them, but if you ever decided, I know it won't make a difference to Syd. You know, that's what I remember most the first time I met him? Half a dozen feds in the room and he was the only one that looked at me like a person as opposed to just some whore."

"Well, that's you." Gabriel said. "But I don't need him to know." He didn't doubt her account, but it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, ever, and he begrudged her for pushing him into it, even if it was clear that he was willing to be open with her because there was no fear of reproof. And because she'd seen something that he felt he needed to acknowledge, even if he resented her for that too.

#moment of awesome #velocidad #stacy x #plot #plots #xprpg #xproject #phase 2

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captainmdhridoyhossain-blog · 1 year

Text

[ad_1] Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky rightfully tweeted, "To the sector: What's the level of claiming by no means once more for 80 years, if the sector remains silent when a bomb drops at the similar web page of Babyn Yar?"I can now not keep silent and take a seat again as those atrocities play out earlier than our eyes. After I gained a decision from a pricey pal to help with the determined evacuation of loads of Jewish orphans and fortify body of workers on the Tikva Kids's House in Odessa following the Russian invasion of Ukraine, it struck a non-public chord.When International Struggle II erupted in 1939, my father was once simply two years previous. When my grandfather, a tank commander within the Crimson Military, gained advance intelligence that the Jews in Kyiv can be massacred, he mobilized his army sources and smuggled my grandmother and father to the Kamchatka Peninsula in Siberia, the place they remained till 1945. They have been lucky to have a trail towards survival carved out by means of my grandfather, who went on to steer a brigade to disencumber Hungarian Jews all through the Holocaust. And regardless of being a Jew, he changed into a countrywide warfare hero and gained the Order of Lenin in 1954. Now, with Russia apparently focused on blameless civilians in Kharkiv's central sq., and the 40-mile lengthy Russian convoy drawing near Kyiv, the United Countries estimates that greater than 800,000 refugees have already evacuated Ukraine because the outbreak of warfare. Many of those refugees are girls and youngsters torn aside from their husbands, fathers and brothers who stay in Ukraine, banded of their choice to offer protection to their land and shield their democratic values. It sort of feels historical past is repeating itself not up to one century later, and the heartbreak I believe stems from the working out that this unprovoked warfare, began by means of but every other unhealthy guy, will result in such a lot needless struggling. To stay detached isn't an possibility. All of us have an ethical legal responsibility to halt this tragic struggling thru an outpouring of humanitarian assist to the blameless refugees and sufferers. Additionally it is important that all of us develop into scholars of historical past -- to show evil, to disgrace the darkish forces of bigotry and anti-Semitism that also persist, to name out Russian President Vladimir Putin for attacking civilians and to offer protection to the blameless youngsters in Ukraine who're stuck within the crossfire of his disturbed ambitions. It's not misplaced on me that Putin has attempted to rewrite historical past and justify this warfare with the unhinged statement that he is attempting to "denazify" Ukraine. To invade a country led by means of a proud Jewish guy -- after which to strike, deliberately or now not, the world of a Holocaust memorial web page honoring the demise of 1000's upon 1000's of Jews is as a long way from "denazification" as one may just believe. Zelensky is Jewish. His grandfather, who fought within the Soviet Union's Crimson Military all through International Struggle II, misplaced 3 of his brothers to Nazis. And out of the darkish ashes of the Holocaust, the Jewish President of Ukraine is main the emergence of an international entrance united in opposition to Putin's unjustified warfare. And regardless of Putin's incorrect information and propaganda campaigns, Ukrainians are taking to social media to seize the truth of the Russian invasion. I in my view understand how tough social media may also be. In October 2018, I introduced my very own watchdog group to battle anti-Semitism. 3 weeks later, an anti-Semite killed 11 blameless Jews on the Tree of Existence synagogue in Pittsburgh. As a result of I already had a robust social media following, my nascent group's reaction to that bloodbath exploded on social media. Since then, I have not stopped leveraging the facility of social media to show and grasp anti-Semites publicly responsible.

Within the final week, we have now noticed the facility of TikTok and different social media platforms as Ukrainians seize what they are seeing and experiencing at the flooring.And for all folks around the globe looking at this horrific warfare spread, amplifying the reality on social media is significant, however it isn't sufficient. To fulfill the wishes of Ukraine's exploding humanitarian disaster, we should take motion to offer protection to the blameless youngsters and civilians whose lives had been upended by means of warfare.As Zelensky pleaded to the Ecu Union, "We've a want to look our kids alive. I feel it is a honest one." The youngsters of Ukraine and the Jewish orphans from Odessa want our assist. Allow us to all display up for them. [ad_2] #Opinion #granddaughter #daughter #Jews #escaped #Kyiv #stay #silent

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petnews2day · 2 years

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Giant Python Squeezes Snake Handler as He Struggles to Take the 20-Foot-Long Snake Back to Its Cage; Viral Video Will Wake You Up Tonight!

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-news/small-pet-news/giant-python-squeezes-snake-handler-as-he-struggles-to-take-the-20-foot-long-snake-back-to-its-cage-viral-video-will-wake-you-up-tonight/

Giant Python Squeezes Snake Handler as He Struggles to Take the 20-Foot-Long Snake Back to Its Cage; Viral Video Will Wake You Up Tonight!

While pythons are non-venomous serpents, they can still bite humans and owing to their giant dimensions; they can even gobble them. A snake handler was in the tight grip of his own pet snake in a viral video that has left the internet queasy. The American reptile wrangler Brian Barczyk was squeezed by a massive 20-foot-long yellow colour python as he struggled to take the reptile back to its cage. The reticulated python Lucy was wrapped around tightly with its owner’s body in a viral Instagram reel shared by the page ‘snakebytestv’. Giant 22-Foot Python Swallows Grandmother Alive in Indonesia, Disturbing Video Footage Shows Remains of Eaten Woman Inside Cut-Open Snake.

Here’s The Viral Reel:

(SocialLY brings you all the latest breaking news, viral trends and information from social media world, including Twitter, Instagram and Youtube. The above post is embeded directly from the user’s social media account and LatestLY Staff may not have modified or edited the content body. The views and facts appearing in the social media post do not reflect the opinions of LatestLY, also LatestLY does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.)

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\"Ash What Are You Smelling\' Harbhajan Singh Tweets to Ravi Ashwin After Indian Spinner\'s Practice Jacket Sniffing Video Goes Viral

Viral Video: Passenger Falls Into Gap Between Moving Train and Platform, Escapes Death Thanks To Alert RPF Jawan

Ashwin Anna Supremacy! Ravi Ashwin Spotted Sniffing Practice Jacket During IND vs ZIM Toss at T20 World Cup 2022 (Watch Viral Video)

BTS\' V aka Kim Taehyung to Return to Acting With Squid Game Season 2? But Thrilled ARMY Wants To See K-Pop Star in Romantic K-Drama; View Tweets

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loadAPI_Social_js()

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#Small Pets News

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